"That punk's curse broke—what now?" the elf archer roared. Bombs arced like meteors. One burst at his boots. The bald man caught it like a shield.

"Screw this, we pull back. Not worth our lives; disobey once and breathe tomorrow," the bald man snarled. His eyes narrowed like knives. He hunted a soft seam to break.

Hercules burned to bolt, yet his leg was dead wood from that other mind. He crawled like a wounded wolf through churned mud.

Despair and fear flooded his skull like a black tide. His hands shook for the longsword, but blood loss turned his grip to smoke.

A spear-ghoul loomed over him, shadow long as a gallows. The spear stabbed for the earthbound Hercules.

Panic flared like lightning. His fingers clutched the jade pendant at his throat. Heaven and earth changed color.

Whoosh—an azure sword-light stabbed the sky. A massive rapier blinked into the field. It swept a ring of ghouls, then thrust for a nearby ridge like a grinder.

At the ghoul legion’s core, an ironclad figure opened unseen eyes. He muttered like winter wind, then vanished from his command cradle.

With sword-qi carving a path, Hercules dragged himself forward like driftwood on a flood.

The field finally bared its fangs to him. Their early breakthrough had shattered lines. The melee became a whirlpool that severed command.

The human legion broke into shards. Each shard fought alone, easy pickings for hawks wearing ghoul faces.

One breath you reap a ghoul. The next you’re swarmed by spear-ghouls or pulped by a giant like a falling boulder.

Hercules watched men die in ragged droves. Bile wouldn’t rise. He dragged his numb right leg toward the sword-qi’s wake before it faded.

The Ironclad floated over the azure current and began to chant, voice like ice cracking on a river.

Lesser Forbidden Spell: Froststorm! Blue fire flickered in his eye-sockets. A vast blue circle snapped beneath the sword-qi and locked it like frost.

Ice spines budded and shot. Killing cold swept the plain like winter rain. It lanced both armies.

Ice elements rioted like a blizzard. Glowing traces sketched frost scars in the air.

“Ah—” “Bastards!” “A dark-kin powerhouse!” Screams tore the wind like ripped sail.

Soldiers watched comrades skewered into meat kebabs. The cold gnawed their lungs like wolves.

The pale-cyan glow around Hercules thinned. It had swatted down many shards, but now it guttered like a candle in gale.

He clenched his teeth. Stop now and die. Crawl now and maybe live—hope an ember in snow.

One voice pounded like war drums in his skull. Stand up. Stand up. Stand up.

He spent his last spark, dragging a blood trail. He rose atop a scrubby knoll in a storm of killing sounds.

Eye of Logic! he intoned. Black Runes swam in his left pupil like ants boiling from a nest.

Analysis complete. Optimal plan: sacrifice left forearm, said the cold star in his mind.

He nearly obeyed, then killed the math. He turned his back, letting the thickest plate face the storm.

Too slow. The axe fell like thunder.

“Aaah!” The blade wedged in his left scapula and twitched. Blood fanned the dust like red rain.

Pain tried to drown him. He roared, whipped his greatsword backhand, and hunted the ghoul’s neck like a silver crescent.

Rage and pain drove him now. His pupils went blood-red. A beast abandoned reason and bared its fangs at the world.

Hurt me—rip you. Offend me—shatter you. Block me—erase you.

A silver arc flashed. A ghoul head flew, trailing a ribbon of red that dyed the barren earth.

“Kill, kill, kill!” He let the blood-heat steer him and buried his fear under enemy blood.

The human lines buckled step by step. Their careful formation tore like wet paper under black waves.

From above, you’d see a gash through the ranks. Ghouls poured like ants. Blood blossomed like poppies.

Limbs and torsos littered the ground. Scarlet ran in rills, a cruel map across the field.

Blood from Hercules’s thigh clotted thick, sealing the gash like pitch. Pain raged on, but his legs answered.

“No idea what stage this fight’s at…” he muttered, using his blade as a crutch and limping for the main city’s line.

Suddenly the elements emptied, like the sea sucking back before a tsunami. His soul shivered. He lifted his eyes.

Midair, thousands of azure blades orbited a queenly woman. Elements rushed to her like a heaven-swallowing beast.

The air grew so dense it almost turned solid. Her hands moved, and the flood followed, shaping a miracle.

A Divine Phoenix danced. The Azure Dragon coiled. The Black Tortoise shook the ground. The White Tiger roared over rivers and peaks.

The crushed human host rallied in a heartbeat. The divine beasts pressed the ghouls flat like mountains.

The hale charged. The wounded lifted dragon-spears to guard the flanks. Morale surged into a second crest.

“Leader of the dark, get out here!” she called, hands clasped behind her. Thousands of star-bright blades aimed at the ghoul tide.

“Damn humans. I’m here. Get over here!” A crack split the void like ice.

A shadow in black smoke stalked out. A bone claw reached for her like a hawk.

“You think that trick works on me?” She flashed a new seal and spread her hands. A cyan array blossomed and pried the claw wide.

Boom! His spell failed. He chanted again, both bone hands lowering to earth like a penitent in prayer.

“You dare chant a forbidden spell before me? Courting death!” She stepped once and became a streak of azure light.

The four beasts rode the elemental torrent and slammed for the chieftain like a falling sky.

His rigid face stayed stone. He didn’t dodge. At knife-range, the void shattered again.

Black iron chains jetted through like spears, aiming to skewer her. Their links were blotched with old blood, a ledger of lives.

She snorted. Her hands opened. Thousands of blades met the chains with sparks, then streaked on toward him.

“Useless. You won’t touch me. Lifebreaker, Lock!” Black light poured from his staff. Colder chains unspooled and crashed into the blades.

Blue-black glare wove in the air like storm-tossed nets.

She snorted again. Azure flared between her palms. Countless blades rose from the elemental flood and closed like a hunting pack.

The four divine beasts, haloed in starshine, unfurled a godly array. A colossal sword of qi pointed at him, sealing his last path.

At last, change flickered on his face. Vicious light sparked in his eyes. Chains coiled to hold back ten thousand blades.

He spat thick corpse miasma. It poured down toward both armies like a black tide.

A human brushed it. Half his body rotted away. Blood pooled, and his scream ripped the sky.

The human host reeled and fell back. Wrapped in corpse-smoke, the ghoul army surged like wolves to tear them apart.